


10 Things Brienne Hates About Jaime

by jackintheboxx



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 10 Things I Hate About You - Inspired, AU, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, High School, Romantic Comedy, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackintheboxx/pseuds/jackintheboxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soccer-player extraordinaire and nonconformist, Brienne Tarth, rolls her eyes at the idiocy of her high school peers. Because of her negative attitude towards dating and anything typically social, her friend Dany Targaryen is forced into these same rules by her overprotective guardian. However, when newcomer Jon Snow begins to develop a crush on Dany, he will do all he can to get Brienne on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just figured there were some interesting parallels to be made between Brienne and Jaime's relationship and 10 Things I Hate About You, so I decided to give it a try! Naturally they’re all supposed to be high school students, so some of the characters with obscure names (Daenerys, Drogo, etc.) will be modified slightly just to make a bit more sense in context.
> 
> Inspired by the film, "10 Things I Hate About You"

There it was; Padua Stadium High School, large and looming, and full of unfamiliar faces. Jon Snow adjusted the straps of his backpack nervously, the only consistent action keeping the nausea at bay. He could turn around, head home, drop out of school…  


“Oops, sorry!” someone shouted over their shoulder after slamming into him.  


“It’s all right,” he mumbled under his breath, thankful that no books were in his arms to fall to the ground. Continuing to fiddle with his backpack, Jon managed to make his way into the building. He was thankful that the guidance office was relatively close to the front doors, and that his aimless wandering didn’t last longer than about five minutes.  


“Hello!” A burly boy intercepted his entrance into the office. “I’m Sam Tarly,” he held out his hand, “I’ve been assigned to show you around. You must be Jon Snow!”  


“Uh, yeah, hey.” Jon clasped Sam’s outstretched hand. “Thank goodness, I thought I’d have to figure this all out by myself.”  


“Nope, at your service,” replied Sam with a face-consuming grin. “So, you move around a lot? Your dad’s in the army? I mean, not to say that I looked at your folder…it was just lying on the guidance counselor’s desk, so…Here’s your schedule.” He shoved the piece of paper into Jon’s chest in an effort to smother his embarrassing speech. “You’ve got chemistry first period.”  


Jon nodded and managed a small smile. Though Sam seemed rather awkward and unsure of himself, Jon felt pleased to have at least one acquaintance. “Where do we begin?”  


“Padua Stadium is your general high school…full of cliques and clubs and outcasts. You’ll learn quickly who’s friendly to talk to and who isn’t. ‘Cept the artsy kids, they’re a hit or miss so just be careful with them.”  


Jon followed Sam through the halls, as he explained in great detail the layout of the high school while occasionally sprinkling in little tidbits of the social aspects. There were too many groups and types of people for Jon to keep track of. He’d almost wanted to write all of Sam’s advice down.  


Then, there she was; a vision in a light-blue sundress that perfectly complimented her eyes. It seemed that the crowd parted for her, her white tennis-shoes practically floating off of the pavement as she walked.  


“Wow,” Jon breathed, his entire body freezing up as she walked past him. “Who’s that?”  


“Don’t even think about it,” Sam quickly retorted. “That’s Dany Targaryen, she’s a senior and she’s practically queen-bee of the entire school. And besides for her not even noticing you—no offense—she isn’t allowed to date. She was adopted and her dad is super uptight and protective of her…everyone knows that.”  


“Sure, sure. I got it,” Jon said dismissively, watching Dany prance away in the opposite direction. 

*** 

The locker-door slammed against the tiled wall. The sickly green paint was completely shielded by images of various people, quotes, and places. A Sarah Lawrence college sticker was plastered in the very center, with a portrait of Joan Jett to the left and a “Fuck You” banner to the right. Brienne Tarth stood in front of the opened locker, adjusting the pile of books in her arms. She was incredibly tall for a girl her age and put little effort into her plain appearance. From behind, Brienne could pass as a boy, with her short, light-blond hair.  


“Brienne,” a melodic voice sang, Dany appearing as Brienne closed the locker. “You want to go out this weekend?”  


Brienne shook her head with a slight laugh. “We don’t hang out at the same places, Dany.”  


“Oh, but you should come! You might really enjoy yourself,” Dany pressed, her forehead crinkling into a frown.  


Brienne and Dany had a peculiar friendship. They had been friends since kindergarten, bonding over animal crackers and colored chalk. While their interests had begun to split in middle-school, the girls found a way to remain friends. It was almost a longevity thing; they couldn’t imagine not being friends with one another. Dany had her popular group of friends at school, but she never hesitated to smile at Brienne in the halls or sit with her at lunch. Brienne attempted to the very best of her abilities to not make snide comments about Dany’s friends, but always made sure to watch out for her all the same.  


“No thank you,” laughed Brienne, snapping the lock shut with one hand and cradling her books in the other. “You always go without me and you fare just fine. Plus, I have soccer practice this weekend, you know that.”  


Dany rolled her eyes. “There’s more to life than soccer and hating your peers, Brienne.” Her attention left the conversation for a brief moment, as she saw a football jersey out of the corner of her eye. “Drogo” was across his broad shoulder-blades in large, dark-blue print. He looked like a Greek god, all tanned skin and brawn.  


“Oh, god, Dany,” scoffed Brienne, a scowl painting across her features. “He’s the biggest—”  


“You don’t know him,” Dany interrupted, anticipation lilting her voice as Drogo turned around and made his way down the hall.  


He winked as he passed her. “Looking good, Dany.”  


“Not everyone is worthy of your kindness,” Brienne sighed, nudging Dany as she waved to Drogo’s retreating form. “He certainly isn’t.”  


“If I’m too nice, then you’re too judgmental,” was Dany’s good-humored retort, as she nudged Brienne back. “I’ll see you later, okay?”  


“Yeah, yeah. Bye, Prom Queen.”  


“Bye, tomboy!” Dany shouted over her shoulder. 

*** 

“The most interesting friendship on the entire school grounds,” Sam narrated, as he and Jon watched the exchange between Brienne and Dany. “Everyone stopped questioning it in 8th grade. I’d stay away from Brienne, though, if I were you. She’s the toughest girl I know.”  


“Oh, come on now, Sam. She can’t be that—” The swift sound of Brienne ripping a prom poster off of the wall and throwing it in the trash silenced Jon’s statement. “Okay, point proven.”  


The cafeteria doors flew open. “Calm down, calm down! It was a joke.” A handsome, slightly disgruntled looking boy backed out of the lunchroom. His hands were held up in surrender, but a sly smirk was plastered across his golden features. “It was just a bratwurst.”  


“Jaime Lannister!” The lunch lady shouted after him as he sprinted down the hall. 

*** 

Jaime Lannister deemed himself the resident troublemaker of Padua Stadium High School. He would stick his head out of the hallway windows to smoke in between periods, had an A+ in skipping classes, and was generally feared and quietly admired by his fellow students. His persona allowed him to do what he pleased, and he liked that just fine.  


He was currently holed up in the boys’ room, standing atop the radiator to smoke out the small crack in the window.  


“Figured I’d find you here. The principal is looking for you, Jaime.” Tyrion Lannister stood at the head of the radiator, glancing up at his elder brother. He was a sophomore, a few years younger than Jaime.  


He’d been born smaller than average, standing no taller than 4’5. Tyrion had found his niche, however, and had many friends due to his humor and cleverness. Jaime didn’t have to worry about him too much.  


“Shh, I’m not here,” Jaime chuckled, blowing a thin stream of smoke out of the window. “She’ll get over it.”  


Though Tyrion came into the restroom to admonish his older brother’s behavior, he couldn’t help but laugh. “You can’t expose yourself in the cafeteria…”  


“I didn’t! It was the bratwurst, I was having a laugh with the lunch lady, but apparently I was the only one laughing,” Jaime mock sighed and flicked the dead end of the cigarette. “No sense of humor, that one.”  


"Well, I won’t tell dad, but he might get a phone-call home anyway.”  


Jaime ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth with a grimace. He pressed the cigarette into the windowpane to kill the smoke. “I’ll worry about that if it happens. Maybe I’ll strike a deal with the principal, I think she fancies me.” He jumped down from his perch and rustled Tyrion’s blond hair. “Get to class, young man!” 

*** 

Jon Snow had successfully made it to the end of the school day. He’d even say he’d made a friend out of Sam, who had stuck with him for a good portion of the day. He sat on the front lawn of the school, watching Dany and her friends hop into the football star Drogo's fancy, cherry-red sports car

“There’s got to be a way to hang out with her,” Jon grumbled as Sam plopped down beside him.  


“Well,” Sam said, slightly out of breath from his long trek across the school-grounds, “she is looking for a French tutor.”  


“Sam, that’s brilliant!” Jon clapped him on the shoulder.  


“Oh, you speak French?” Sam’s smile brightened.  


“No.” His smile fell, while Jon’s increased. “But I will!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if these first two chapters seem slow-ish, I'm just trying to set everything up and build the foundation. Hopefully you guys like Chapter Two, let me know what you think!

Jorah Mormont had adopted Dany right after her birth-parents died when she was only a baby. Despite the adoption process, he had always remained honest with her about her family origins and how she came to be his daughter. On her own, she had decided to keep her original last name, with Jorah’s consent. She claimed it was the only piece of her biological parents she had left to cling to, and felt it would be wrong of her to not maintain the family name, at least for a short while. 

Jorah was a loving father, but had the great tendency to be overprotective. Especially after the divorce from his wife, he felt an even greater urge to shield Dany from anything he deemed upsetting or potentially dangerous. One day, when Brienne was over, he got the brilliant idea to put a dating rule in place: Dany could date, when Brienne decided to. Since Brienne had been friends with Dany since they were five-years-old, Jorah knew of Brienne’s out-of-the-norm ways. He knew she was completely uninterested in dating the Padua High boys, he’d heard her on more than one occasion calling them “miscreants” and “losers” along with any other nasty words she could think of. 

He realized too late that his seemingly flawless idea could ruin the strong friendship between Dany and Brienne, but Dany took it in a good-natured stride, her anger fading after a few days. She could not fault her friend for her lifestyle and could not, with great effort, fault her father for being concerned about her. However, she was always trying to wiggle her way out of it. 

Dany sidled into the house that day after school, dropping her flower-patterned backpack at the front door. She leaned her forearms on the couch behind Jorah’s head, swooping down to press a kiss on his cheek. “Hi, dad, how was your day?” 

Jorah folded the crisp newspaper upon his lap. He had a knowing half-smile on his bearded face, as he turned around to give her his full attention. “What would you like, Dany?” 

“I know you’re not too keen on all the ‘teenage parties,’” she air-quoted the term as if it were a frightening folklore, “but I got invited to go to one this weekend, and I would really like to go.” She waited in anticipation for a response she did not receive. “I can take care of myself. Plus, they’re not how you think they are.” 

“Oh,” Jorah tossed the newspaper onto the coffee-table with a laugh, “I believe they’re precisely how I think they are. I’ve seen MTV, I know ‘what’s up.’” He repeated her air-quote motions. “Boys slip drugs into girls’ drinks, there are keg-stands, and fights happen…Why on Earth would you even want to be a part of that? You’re a smart girl.”

Dany glowered at the typical parental jibe at her intelligence. “Parties aren’t like that here, dad. Not at all. You blow things way out of proportion. I’ll never be able to learn if you don’t let me do anything.” 

“You’re learning quite enough, I think,” was Jorah’s final retort, as he stood up from the couch. “This conversation is over. You’re not going.” 

“But all of my friends are going to be there,” Dany stifled the whine that attempted to escape from her lips. She would not resort to childhood antics. “What if I said Brienne is going? Would that make you feel better? She’s a normal person, you like her, and she’s going to a party…like a normal teenage girl.”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it,” sighed Jorah, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. 

“Is that a yes?” Dany nudged, raising her eyebrow and chewing on her lower-lip to hide the bright smile. 

“It’s a maybe. That’s it.” 

***

“Please, Brienne.” Dany was above begging her father, perhaps, but she was not afraid to pitifully pester Brienne. “You have to come, please. I’ll make it up to you.” She sat upon Brienne’s bed, legs curled up to her chest. She attempted the most angelic expression she could muster. If she played her cards right, Brienne would crack. Through the hard exterior and attitude, Brienne was a fiercely loyal friend and would be too good-natured to refuse for too long. 

“Why does it matter whether I’m there or not?” Brienne sighed, exasperated.

“You know my dad.” Dany rolled her eyes. “He feels better if there’s someone there that he can trust, and he trusts you.” 

Brienne passed the soccer-ball gently between her sock-clad feet. She focused down at the slow movement rather than at Dany’s dejected expression. She truly hated going to house-parties. They were loud, beer was sticking to every crevice imaginable, and she just found her drunken classmates to be of a lower intelligence than on a normal basis. It was intolerable. 

“I know for a fact that you don’t want me to crawl across the floor and cry into your lap,” warned Dany.

“Why is this one party so important to you? It’s just a party. You’ve missed some before.” Brienne kicked the soccer-ball to the foot of the bed to cease Dany’s impending groveling. 

Dany’s shoulders sank down in apparent embarrassment. “Drogo invited me,” she spoke in a small voice, looking at anything but Brienne. “It will look bad if I don’t go. I don’t want to make a bad impression on him.” She twirled her wavy blond hair between her fingertips, head bent. 

Brienne felt a heavy sigh leave her chest. She knew what it felt like to want so very badly for someone to just like you back the way you liked them. Memories flashed back from Freshman-year, when she was head-over-heels for the captain of the boys’ soccer team, Renly Baratheon. He was kind to her, but never showed any interest other than friendship. She just couldn’t fathom Dany’s attraction to a bone-head like Drogo, but for her friend she could try. 

“All right.” She caved. Already, images of vomiting pubescent high-school students filled her head and she fought back a heavy scowl. “But you owe me!” 

***

Jon Snow spread the various French textbooks across the wooden library table. He wanted to appear as if he knew what he was doing. The more books the better, he figured. He hoped it wouldn’t deface his French-fanatic image to have a beginner’s book amongst the other textbooks. He’d certainly need it, seeing as he’d never spoken a word of French in his entire life. 

Dany entered the library, and Jon wished he could control the flush on his cheeks. Her hair was pulled back away from her face in a long braid, wisps of her light hair framing her face. She fiddled with the end, as she became distracted by the various stories and titles on the bookshelves. A small smile graced her red-painted lips, as she found him in the center of the room.

“You must be my French tutor,” she stated sweetly, reaching her hand out to him.

“How’d you know?” Jon chuckled, praying his hand wasn’t clammy as he accepted her handshake. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe all the French books you have?” Dany tossed her head towards Jon’s array of books upon the table. 

Jon’s stammering reply was impossible to comprehend. 

“Relax,” she punched his upper-arm lightly, “I was just joking.”

Jon felt like an idiotic child, his face hurt from trying to hide the smile. “We can get started whenever you’d like,” his voice-box had managed to articulate without a falter or squeak. 

“Or,” she murmured, cradling her chin in both hands, “we can just stare at each other for hours.”

Jon did that stammering thing again where he couldn’t control which way his voice wobbled. If the library floor could have opened up and swallowed him whole, he would have been grateful. “I’m kidding! Gosh, new kid, you need to chill out,” Dany laughed in response, unfazed by Jon’s fumbling. “What is your name, anyway?” 

“Jon Snow.” He was thankful for a question he couldn’t possibly mess up. “It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Just as he was prepared to recover from revealing too much, Dany rolled her eyes and waved off the comment. “I wouldn’t believe what you hear at this school. No one’s reliable.” She examined her manicured nails idly. “One minute I’m a pristine virgin and the next minute I’m a sex-goddess. People love to have their own stories.” 

Jon choked down his silly desire to question which was true. “I haven’t heard either of those things, actually,” is what he opted to say. “Do you like French food?” is what he did not plan to follow it up with. 

“What?” Dany’s face scrunched up in amusement.

“I…I don’t know. We could get some…some French food. It might be a more hands-on learning experience. We could…this weekend.” Jon gnawed on his lower-lip until it was raw. He averted his eyes from her bright blue ones, praying she would not laugh in his face. 

Dany’s countenance almost appeared as if she were in pain. She felt his insecurity radiating off of his body. She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “How about you just teach me French and we forget that you just asked me out?” she whispered in a tone as overly kind as she could muster. 

“Um, absolutely!” Jon sucked in a quick breath and snapped open the first textbook he could grab.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not even allowed to go on dates,” Dany continued, watching Jon flip through the pages with a sympathetic expression. “So, no hard feelings.” 

“No, I know that,” replied Jon quickly. “It’s just I thought if it was for French class, then—” He let his sentence hang in midair, with no strength of voice to continue it. 

“Actually,” Dany’s quiet mumble filled the gap. “I might be able to go out on a date if Brienne does. My dad has this whole weird trust-system thing where he doesn’t trust my judgment and he trusts my friend’s…If I tell him that even Brienne went on a date, he might be more keen to let me go on one.” She pressed her lips together in a thin line, lost in her own concoction of thoughts. 

Jon circled his thumbs around one another and leaned a touch closer to Dany. “What if I could find someone for Brienne to date?” He posed the inquiry with a slight wince, expecting immediate rejection. 

Dany’s face brightened. “Would you do that? I think it could be really great for her. She’s an awesome girl, if she was just given a chance.” 

Naturally, Dany was happy for the idea of her best-friend going out on her first date. However, she could not help but feel equally as happy for the infinite possibilities of her own personal life if Brienne found someone she could tolerate spending time with. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Jon stated with mock confidence.

***

“No! Not definitely. Not at all.” Sam almost dropped his entire lunch tray onto the floor. “How could you say something like that, Jon? You can’t tame a shrew!” 

“This isn’t a Shakespearian play, Sam,” Jon spoke under his breath. “There has to be someone who goes to this school who would find her intriguing.” 

“Your hopes are too high!” 

“You know, just because someone seems abrupt and kind of scary on the surface doesn’t mean she doesn’t want someone to hang out with just like the rest of us do,” Jon said with an angered tone.

Sam stared at Jon pointedly. “You don’t know anything about high school kids, do you?” 

Jon pouted like a child. “I know them just fine.” 

“Not well enough, apparently. No one at this school will date Brienne. She scares more than half of the guys here,” Sam continued on his minor tirade. 

Jon opened his mouth to retort, but a burning smell diverted his attention to a table a few feet away. Jaime Lannister sat at the round table, his worn-out Chucks propped up on top of the surface. He held a lit match delicately between two fingers, and seemed to gather an audience. The flame reflected harshly in his vivid green eyes, but was extinguished in seconds as he ran the match across the tip of his tongue. He flicked the blackened stick over his shoulder and smirked. 

“What about him?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the Jaime/Cersei shippers out there, but they aren't together romantically in this story. Since it's a high school AU, I figured I wouldn't delve into that territory. They're just close siblings. 
> 
> Other than that, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Sorry for the wait!

Sam’s face contorted into a deep, forehead-creasing frown that shuddered throughout his entire body. _Jaime Lannister?_ Sam had literally made it his goal in life to avoid Jaime since they’d been in middle-school together. That’s when the presumed “bad boy” image began to settle in over the teenager, a slow transformation that eventually solidified itself by the end of the school year. If Sam hadn’t known better, he would have believed the rumor that Jaime was actually 22-years-old, getting left back for a few years in a row. He had a clouded reputation, a kind of myth that the school possessed in the form of a senior-boy. No one had beaten Jaime in a school fight. No one. A kid disappeared once after he clashed fists with Jaime, and Sam was convinced that he had sent the poor boy to an early grave. 

The hushed whispers and side-glances did not seem to affect Jaime. He appeared not to notice at all. 

“Nope. No. No way.” Sam folded his arms and shook his head. “That’s a terrible idea, Jon. Have you seen him?” In a slow, wary movement, Sam brought his attention over to the table where he knew Jaime was sitting. “I’ve seen him do worse than put fire out with his tongue.”

Jon didn’t seem perturbed in the least. In fact, he appeared hopeful. “Right, so what’s the problem? If anyone would be up for dating Brienne, he seems like the perfect candidate. He’s adventurous, interesting—”

“A _killer_!” Sam hissed, leaning low towards the table in the event that Jaime’s supersonic hearing could pick up on the statement. 

“Please, Sam,” laughed Jon, “you’re being absolutely ridiculous.” 

“Jon, I like you. I really do. But you haven’t been going here long enough to judge his character. The rest of your high school experience will be wonderful if you never make eye-contact with Jaime Lannister.” 

“I’ll talk to him once school is over,” Jon continued without paying any attention to Sam. He seemed to be speaking to himself. “I’ve seen him hanging around the bleachers…” 

“I’m not going with you!” Sam snapped, and yet a piece of him knew that more than likely he would be hovering at Jon’s side. 

***

Brienne was most comfortable right here; right in the center of the open field at school. The sweat that glistened on her forehead was not unwelcome, and the light cling of her soccer uniform to her skin was a reminder of how long she’d been playing. The black and white ball was poised beneath her foot, a frozen second in the practiced game as she mulled over her next move. It was over in an instant, and Brienne was off running with the ball effortlessly gliding in front of her. 

If there was one thing the student body praised her for, it was for her staggering talent at the sport. Murmurs of scholarships were on every teacher’s tongue since even the entire faculty had heard of her wicked passion for the game. 

Brienne was even offered a spot on the boys’ soccer-team at school, but declined under the principle that other girls weren’t allowed to play on any of the other boy teams at school, and simply for her loyalty towards her own team. Besides Dany, her team truly embraced Brienne’s friendship. The team didn’t find it necessary to make jibes at her or mockingly call her “Brienne the Beauty” as the rest of the students did. It was a welcome change. 

***

Jon made the last trip to his locker a quick one, shoving his books and belongings into his backpack in a messy manner. He didn’t want to miss Jaime or lose his nerve to speak with him. Sam’s warnings began to sink in slightly, and Jon gulped at the thought that Jaime might punch him in the gut for even approaching him in the first place.

He one-strapped his backpack, jogging off in the direction of the door that he knew was closest to the football field and the bleachers. Sam was waiting by the exit, as he said he would not be doing. He was flushed, as if he’d jogged there, too, but perhaps it was nerves. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Jon?” Sam questioned timidly, his breath staggered. 

“We’ve got to try,” Jon reasoned, pushing open the dark brown double-doors that led outside. 

The walk to the field seemed to take forever, their feet sluggish and unsure. Jon almost turned around to run back inside, but he figured that Sam would only follow him and not try to stop him. That thought alone forced him to continue walking to the bleachers. 

Jaime was perched atop the highest seating on the metal benches. He was alone, for once. Tinted aviator sunglasses shielded his eyes and a light leather-jacket was draped over his shoulders, as if he’d thrown it on as an after-thought. His hands were cupped around his mouth, as he hid the breeze from his lighter. 

Jon’s slow steps made the trip up the awkwardly spaced bleachers seats even more uncomfortable. “Uh, hello.” He waved as he finally approached Jaime. 

Jaime tossed a breath of smoke above his head. “Can I help you?” His voice was demanding and gravelly, as he sharply turned his attention back to Jon. 

“Would you be interested at all in dating Brienne Tarth?” Jon had an entire witty speech planned to woo Jaime into accepting his bizarre offer. He had recited it in his head throughout lunch, and after the fifth time had not faltered the practiced words. Yet, the entire speech was forgotten in that moment, and he jumped to the heart of the question before he could even lather it up first. 

There was thick silence for a moment. Then, Jaime clutched his sides with laughter. “Are you fucking mental?” He stood up and lightly dusted off his ripped jeans. “This is a joke, right?” The laughter slowly died from his voice and from his face. He took a long drag on his cigarette, the smoke a flowing stream out of his flared nostrils. Jon saw his reflection in Jaime’s sunglasses. 

“No, actually,” Jon gave a nervous laugh of his own. “You see—”

Jaime lifted his hands and Jon felt his teeth clank together as he immediately quieted. “Hey, hey, I’m not looking for a sob-story here, all right? The answer is no. I don’t know what you’re playing at, new kid, but the joke is over.” 

“But if you’ll take Brienne on a date, then—”

The words disappeared in Jon’s throat, as Jaime hopped down to the step above him. He leaned down and blew a thick stream of smoke directly into his face. Glinting, green eyes were visible above the rims of the sunglasses, as he tipped his head down. “No.” 

Jon had almost neglected the fact that Sam had toddled along after him until he felt a light tug at his backpack, and a whispered, “Let’s go!” 

“All right, then.” Jon swallowed hard, the taste in his mouth as dry as a carpet. “Have a nice evening!” he said stupidly, feeling Sam drag him down the bleacher steps.

Jaime plopped back down to his seat on the empty bleachers. He flicked the end of the cigarette, the ashes falling to his scuffed-up sneakers. He watched, body tensed like a lion, waiting for Jon and Sam to completely leave the premises. 

“What are we doing to do?” grumbled Jon, adjusting his backpack after Sam had yanked it the entire way down. 

Sam huffed and puffed, his hands on his sides as he caught his breath. He had never thought himself to be clever, but his mind began to whir as he saw the look of great disappointment on Jon’s face. “What…what if we pay Jaime? You know, a little incentive.” 

“Sam, that’s not right. If she were to find out—” He pushed a heavy hand through his dark, curly hair. “We don’t have any money, anyway. Not enough.” 

“ _We_ wouldn’t be paying anything. Your hands will be entirely clean. You get a middle-man, someone to pay Jaime for you,” Sam continued, his words moving quickly out of his mouth as he thought them up. “You wouldn’t be doing anything mean…not really. It all rests on the middle-man. If...once Jaime accepts, you let him know your intentions. He'll help you instead. What will it matter if he's getting paid?” 

***

Drogo leaned back in the plastic cafeteria chair as if it were a throne. The toothpick wobbled between his teeth, as he swapped it from side to side. “Do I know you?” He cocked his head, as his friend beside him punched his shoulder in jest. 

“Uhh, no, actually,” Jon raised a hand to hush the imminent laughter, “but you might want to get to know me. I have a proposition for you, uhh, Drogo. You want Dany, don’t you?” It had taken Jon the entire night prior and a good portion of the morning to build up the courage to even consider involving Drogo into the situation.

“I can get anyone I want, new kid. I don’t need, _uhh_ , you’re help,” he laughed. “It’s just for fun, anyway. None of your business.” 

“But I can help you,” Jon spoke in a flurry of words, trying feebly to get his entire pitch out before Drogo flicked him across the room. “You know that Dany has those weird dating rules. What if we get someone to take Brienne on a date? Then, her dad won’t think it’s so crazy if Dany goes out on one. He trusts Brienne, and—”

Drogo lifted up a hand. “Silence, new kid. Tell you what, I’ll think about it.” A sneer curled his lips into a crooked smile. 

Jon laughed nervously. “We already found your guy. See—” He pointed over to the table that Jaime was always sitting at. “Jaime Lannister. He’s perfect.”

“If anyone can tame the wild beast, it would be that freak,” scoffed Drogo, twirling the toothpick between his forefinger and thumb.

“You need to hire a guy who’s up for it, for sure,” Sam piped in, laughing anxiously. His fingers were twisting the bottom of his shirt until it was wrinkled. 

Drogo squinted at the mention of a monetary proposition. He was aware that he had the money to spare, but was it really worth it? “What’s in it for you two idiots?” He scanned his pointer-finger across Jon and Sam’s paled faces. 

“Just don’t beat us up in the hallway,” Sam responded before Jon could say anything worthwhile. 

Drogo laced his fingers behind his head. “I’ll consider it.” The group at the table remained soundless for a moment, with Jon and Sam remaining frozen in their positions. “Well, run along.” 

***

Drogo was arrogant. He knew it, and the entire school knew it. He was the typical teenage superstar; captain of the football team, popular, muscular, handsome, and he had fucking-ace hair. His arrogance bled throughout the halls of the high school like wildfire, and everyone seemed to feed off of it. They all thought he was swell, despite all other tendencies he possessed speaking otherwise. 

Drogo always got what he wanted, and he wanted Dany. He had wanted her ever since he had heard of her unattainable status. She was like the ball that grazed his fingertips, but at the last second fell to the grass as he stumbled over it. Dany was innocent and pure, and Drogo just wanted to smear himself all over and make a pretty little mess. He wanted her to walk around the halls and have people know that he had won, he had dated her first. 

The money was worth it, he could spare a few dollars. He figured Jaime couldn’t possibly refuse. He had taken into consideration Tubby and Snow White’s proposal, and decided that the idea was pretty solid. If Jaime managed to date Brienne, then it would be impossible for Dany to not date Drogo. 

“I’m not sure how I feel about this,” Jon whispered, as he and Sam scampered carefully after Drogo. He had clearly been searching for Jaime throughout the crowded halls of the school. “It’s not right…”

“Do you want to date Dany or not?” was Sam’s retort. “This is the only way her crazy dad will be okay with it.” 

“What if she chooses Drogo instead of me?” Jon hated himself for allowing the words to slip out of his mouth.

He and Sam halted as Drogo rounded the corner in front of them.

Jaime was around the corner, in front of the large library doors. He had a basketball in his hands, as he lazily dribbled it across the hallway floor. He threw it against the tiled walls every so often, purposely making a ruckus. He must have stolen it from the gym. 

Sam and Jon waited at the corner where the two hallways met, eager to hear the conversation between the two. 

Jaime roughly tossed the basketball into Drogo’s chest, Drogo’s large palms catching the ball at the center of his chest. He laughed, a deep and echoed sound. “Should’ve tried out for the team, Lannister,” he sneered, as he tossed the ball back, Jaime ducking so it avoided the side of his head. 

The ball bounced slowly down the hall. Neither moved to retrieve it. 

“What can I do for you?” Jaime stated sarcastically.

“You know Brienne Tarth? I want you to go out with her,” Drogo responded with a serious tone that demanded finality to the statement. 

“What the fuck is up with this girl?” Jaime rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a shit. This girl’s not my problem.” 

“I have a few reasons why you’ll want to make it your problem, Lannister.” Drogo pulled out a few 20-dollar bills from his pocket and waved them around. “I’m more than happy to compensate you for dating the ugliest girl at this goddamn school.” 

Jaime tongued his cheek in thought, as his forehead creased in a frown. He watched Drogo languidly fan the money. “You’re seriously going to pay me to take out some bitch?” 

Drogo nodded with a smirk. “I want to date her best-friend, Dany—”

Jaime sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard. She can’t date because her father is a lunatic and only trusts Brienne, _blah blah blah_.” He ran a hand down his cheeks, roughened by light stubble, and ran his tongue across the tips of his front teeth. “How much?” 

“Sixty bucks, right here.” 

“Sixty bucks barely covers dinner, a movie, and gas, you fucking moron,” Jaime laughed. “If you want me to do your dirty work, it needs to be worth my time.” 

“Sixty bucks is all you’re getting,” Drogo gritted through his teeth, the crisp bills crumbling in his fist. 

“Then forget about the friend, macho-man.” Jaime shrugged his shoulders in surrender, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. 

There was silence for a few, elongated seconds. Then, Drogo managed to spit a, “Fine,” out of his mouth before he changed his mind. “One-hundred, then. No more, no less, shithead.” 

“One-hundred-and-five and we’ve got a deal, Tarzan,” Jaime taunted with a smirk. He had to push the extra, even if it was only five. 

Drogo pulled the extra money out of his back-pocket, and shoved it into Jaime’s chest. He left his fist there for a moment longer than necessary, the veins in his temple pulsing in aggravation. “Don’t fuck this up like you do everything else.” 

Jon and Sam, after eavesdropping the entire conversation, scrambled into the nearby classroom before Drogo turned back around the corner. Jon held his hands against either side of his head in blatant shock. “It worked!” It was equally thrilling and terrible in a simultaneous flutter in his stomach. 

“Wait, wait. Jaime has to get Brienne on a date first. He might be the man for the job, but it isn’t going to be easy,” Sam momentarily squashed Jon’s fantasies. 

***

Cersei walked beside Jaime in the emptied hallway, as he kicked a crumpled-up piece of paper between both feet. She was talking passionately about something that he didn’t care about much, so he just nodded when it seemed appropriate and flashed her a grin when necessary. Cersei was his twin, as attractive and golden-haired as he was. They had always been incredibly close, and she had not shied away from him when he decided to take a turn for what many deemed “the worse.” 

All she had said was, “Dad won’t be happy about this.” 

Out of the row of hallway windows, Jaime glanced and saw that soccer practice was still going on. “Hey, Cers, I’m sorry, but I’ve really got to go.” He swiftly kissed his sister’s cheek and began darting for the closest door.

“What? Jaime, where are you going?” she angrily called after him. 

“Got something to do!” 

He figured that it was better to tackle the task at hand sooner rather than later. He felt the money threatening to slip from his fingers should he fail. Brienne Tarth may have been a monstrous girl, but Jaime was under the impression that he could handle her. He could crank up the charm and the suave words; it always worked when he had needed it to. 

Jaime gracefully hopped over the chain-link fence to where the soccer practice had just finished. “Hey there, sexy!” He sauntered up to Brienne, who was busy pouring her bottle of water across her red-blotched face. 

“Are you lost?” Brienne snapped back, gargling water and spitting it to the side.

“Well, that’s certainly a way to make boys weak in the knees,” laughed Jaime, glancing at the place on the grass where Brienne’s spit had ended up.

Brienne frowned in apparent confusion, as she continued to pack up her belongings. “The Dean’s office is right through those doors, to the left, and—” 

Jaime placed a hand to his chest in mock pain. “Oh, so rude. I haven’t been called in there at all today, as a matter of fact. Must you think so little of me?” 

“I don’t think of you at all, actually.” Brienne slung her duffle-bag over her shoulder. She pushed her drenched hair away from her eyes, the water-darkened blond hair sticking in place. “Have a nice evening, then,” she muttered awkwardly. 

Jaime wasn’t going to give up so quickly. “My evening would be better with you involved.” He began to skip backwards, trying to parry her steps to get away from him. 

Before he could even realize what was going on, the side of Brienne’s foot harshly collided with his shin. He fell down, victim to the throbbing pain already surging through his right leg.

Brienne grabbed the front of his shirt. “Stay away from me, Lannister. This game has already gotten old with the many _suitors_ before you. It stopped being funny ten years ago.” She released him, dropping him to the ground. He caught a glint of sadness in her large, sapphire eyes. 

“See you Friday, then?” Jaime called after her, embarrassed at how weak his voice sounded, as his hands grasped at his leg. Despite the pain, he could not hide the smirk on his face as Brienne Tarth raised her hand and gave him the middle-finger, as she stalked in the opposite direction.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm so terrible! I'm sorry this chapter took so long for me to put up, but I hope you all like it :) Comments are always welcome!
> 
> There are a few side-notes at the end.

Jaime hesitated in his glossy black Porsche. At the turn of the keys, the engine slowly died off and went silent, as he made no move to get out of the vehicle. Fuck-up he might have been, but god forbid his father didn’t make sure he had a nice, pretty car for all the neighbors to see.

Jaime hit the heel of his hand roughly onto the leather-bound steering wheel. He knew from the complete set of cars in the extensive driveway that his father lurked inside the large house. The mint gum in his mouth practically went stale as his fingers reached for the front doorknob. He popped the gum loudly to alert any close family members of his presence. “Hey,” he called out, dropping his empty backpack at the front door. He had kept it in his car all day.

Tyrion appeared at the peak of the staircase with a grimace on his face. “He’s in a terrible mood,” he whispered, the soft words echoing in the grand entrance room.

“Probably my fault,” sighed Jaime, pushing a hand through his golden hair. “Stay upstairs.”

“ _Four classes_?” Their father’s distinguishable, guttural voice was heard all the way from the kitchen. “You missed _four_ classes today?” Tywin Lannister held his cell-phone in hand after snapping it shut. “Don’t you have something to say about this?” He shook the phone, enclosed in his fist, at Jaime.

Jaime managed to shrug and nonchalantly take a small step back at the same time. “It’s all right, dad, I know all the material already.” _Shut the fuck up_ , the less-snarky voice in his head bantered. The thought startled him like cold water over his head, and he immediately wiped the smirk off of his face.

“I will not have you embarrass this family.” Tywin slammed his hand down onto the dark marble countertop. “You’ll never get into a good university if you continue this…this nonsense.” His pointer-finger found Jaime’s chest. “You will go to class. You will hand in your homework and projects on time. You will stop this fooling around shit. I’ve had enough.”

“Yes, sir,” Jaime grumbled, averting his eyes in any direction but at his father. He didn’t wait to hear a, “Get out of my sight” before he pushed himself out from his father’s looming presence.

Cersei and Tyrion were on the second-floor, leaning over the banister to the staircase. Each sibling had a look of worry upon their face, ill-hidden. Jaime pulled a heavy breath through his nose, and looked up and flashed them a grin. “It’s fine, don’t worry,” he said softly. “I made it out in one piece.” He pressed his hands flat to his abdomen and chest in an effort at jest.

“You shouldn’t provoke him like that,” Cersei admonished, as Jaime hopped up the stairs two at a time. “Did—”

Jaime grabbed his sister’s hand gently to hush her. “He didn’t. Not today.” He brought his other hand down to muss up Tyrion’s hair. He pulled on a face of mock authority. “Get to your rooms, you insolent children!” he said in the best impression of his father he could ever hope to muster, and tried to continue to lighten the mood through half-hearted jokes.

Jaime’s room was messy when he entered it. He shook his head in anger, yanking a shirt that had clung to the doorknob inside the room. His father had gone through his room again. Jaime normally kept the room relatively clean, only because he maintained it in a sparse manner.

All of his clothing, any paperwork he had saved throughout the years, was strewn across the floor. The pillage had not even been attempted to be covered up. Jaime assumed that his father was searching for some evidence and answers for his “juvenile” behavior. Drugs, probably. Every drawer in his desk and armoire were opened, the contents a mess. The only thing that remained untouched were the two fencing swords that were crossed above his bed on hooks.

Jaime had entered the sport at a young age and was incredibly good at it, to his father’s delight. However, a fault injury about two years ago ruined his dominant hand for a short period of time, and he had stopped the sport entirely just to spite his father. He missed it, if he allowed the thought to enter his mind.

“Fuck,” he groaned, twisting the red shirt that he had peeled from the doorknob in both hands. “Fuck.” The fabric stretched and threatened to rip.

Thoughts of missing school entirely the next day had flickered momentarily. Jaime would defy him completely; just not show up at all. But deep down, he knew that these fantastic thoughts weren’t the least bit true.

He went to all of his classes the next day 

***

Jaime poked repeatedly at the beaten-up book on the top of his desk. Jane Eyre had sat unopened in the trunk of his car for the past couple weeks. Since he had decided to grace all of his classes with his presence, he decided he should at least bring the books needed. He never went to English class. The only times he showed up were the first day, to mentally check out after ten minutes, and the days where he knew a substitute teacher would be there, and he could just sign his name in and leave, pretending he had been there the entire time.

Since he had rarely gone to his English class, he had never noticed that Brienne Tarth was in his class. He messed up the prior seating arrangement to casually sit behind her.

Jaime ripped out a piece of paper from his unused notebook, crinkling it up quickly, and tossed it over her head. The paper ball landed in the center of Brienne’s desk, on top of her opened book.

She spun around before Jaime could rip out another piece of paper. “Do you _mind_?” she snapped, eyes narrowed.

“No, not at all. Would you like another one?” Jaime pulled another loose-leaf from his notebook.

Brienne slammed her hand onto his notebook, halting any further paper snowballs Jaime had any intention of tossing her way. “Stop,” she gritted through her teeth. Then, perhaps, curiosity got the best of her. “What are you doing here, anyway, Lannister? You never show up.”

“Oh, you notice when I’m not here?” Jaime wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I just notice that the usual peace and quiet in the classroom is being disturbed, is all,” was Brienne’s quick retort. “It’s amazing that you’re even in the Honors Program still.”

Jaime clicked his tongue. “Now, now. No need to be feisty.” He would be getting straight A’s if he put his heart into his work, but he refused to tell her that. It was more fun to keep the teachers on the edge of their seats, in his opinion. 

“I’m taking attendance now,” the teacher’s dull voice intermitted their conversation.

Brienne turned back around immediately.

“Are you going to that party on Friday? I hear everyone’s going,” Jaime whispered, leaning closer towards Brienne’s shoulder. He saw her pull away. “Well, are you?” He goaded impatiently after she had blatantly ignored him.

“The teacher is taking attendance, if you don’t notice,” Brienne whispered out of the corner of her mouth, equally as impatient.

“Well, you just answered me, so answer the other question.” Jaime stopped himself quickly before an insult poured out of his mouth. He was trying to woo her, not push her away. Calling her a “bitch” or an “ugly monster of a girl” would not have her sighing for his affections, fake as they may be.

“ _Yes_ , I’m going. Now shut up,” Brienne hissed, her hand visibly clenching around her pencil. It probably could have cracked under her strength, but she loosened the death grip after a moment’s pause. 

Jaime smirked. “I’ll see you there, then. I’ll pick you up. We’ll go together.”

Brienne’s mouth fell open in wordless shock. For once, she did not have a quick rejoinder up her sleeve. His persistence clearly puzzled the girl, and she looked for a moment as if she wasn’t sure whether to slam his head against the corner of his desk or rush out of the room in tears.

“Is this really necessary?” Brienne opted for, whispered inquiry barely perceptible over the teacher’s drone.

“Well—”

“Jaime Lannister,” the teacher sighed, “if you are going to join us for class, you need to act as if you are in class. Now, please, quiet down?”

Brienne spun away from Jaime quickly, busying herself with flicking at the fold on the corner of her book. Jaime mumbled false apologizes and shuffled low in his seat. He stretched his legs out as far as they could go, purposely kicking the legs of her chair. She ignored him.

He certainly hadn’t anticipated the task to be so difficult.

***

“When I dish out one-hundred-and-five bucks, I expect some results, _lowlife_.” Drogo’s wide palm had stopped Jaime in the center of the hallway. He towered over Jaime like a looming shadow, his thick eyebrows in a dangerously low frown that Jaime figured he could not sweet-talk his way out of.

“All right, all right.” He attempted to step away. “No need to get grabby. I’m working on it.” Drogo clutched at a handful of his shirt and kept him rooted in place. “What, you want to spit and shake on it or something? I’m not lying. It’s just…it’s just taking a bit longer than I thought it would.”

Jaime did not want to admit that Brienne seemed completely uninterested in the entire situation. He could manage to keep that piece of information to himself. The tight fingers clasping at his chest loosened lightly, and Jaime took the opportunity to slip out of Drogo’s clutches. 

“You don’t fucking boss me around, clear?” Jaime snapped. “You’re no better than me…remember, I’m not the one paying someone to get a girl. You clearly can’t do it yourself.” 

Drogo’s fist clashing into the nearby locker could have been Jaime’s face, but he just smirked and walked past the seething giant with a whistled tune and a skip to his step. 

***

Jon pretended that he didn’t have Jaime’s car memorized, but he found himself standing near the black Porsche at the end of the school day regardless. Sam had attempted, once again, to talk him out of speaking with Jaime, but since he’d already gotten involved in the situation Jon saw his opportunity to slip back in. 

“Jesus, kid. What do you _want_?” Jaime halted his steps at the hood of his car, cigarette dangling from his lips.

“I, uh, I just wanted to clear a few things up…” Jon adjusted his backpack strap uncomfortably. “I want to date Dany, and—”

Jaime shoved his sunglasses back, pushing the hair out of his face. “This girl’s pussy must be like Shangri-La or something…” He appeared genuinely impressed.

Jon’s face quickly flushed at Jaime’s statement. “Uh, no. Uh, actually I don’t know, but…uh.” He rubbed his palm over his face to calm his nerves. “I got Drogo to…to pay you. That was Sam and mine’s idea.”

“Clever little bastard you are, aren’t you?” Jaime laughed. 

“So, Sam and I are going to help you date Brienne.” Jon found himself doing that terrible thing again where all the words rushed out at once, and all of the planned statements stuck to the roof of his mouth. “You’re still getting paid, we help you, I end up with Dany. Everyone’s happy.” 

Jaime rested his hip against the car. “You’ll help me tame Girlzilla?” 

“To the best of my ability, yes,” sighed Jon, relieved at Jaime’s response. 

“Drogo’s a prick, anyway. I was going to cut it off with him after he paid me a few more times,” Jaime said with a shrug. 

Jon figured it would be impolite to ask why one of the richest students at school would need to be sifted money from someone like Drogo. Then again, no one really turns away the prospect of money. Jaime also seemed like the kind of guy who found a thrill in the sneaking around, the passing of money through grazing fingertips, and the chance to prove everyone wrong by getting the most unattainable person at school. It was all some sort of game. 

Jaime unlocked his car and began opening the door, which signaled his ending of the conversation. “Keep me updated, loverboy. We’ll be in touch.” He patted the roof of his car in a means of waving goodbye, and hopped in before Jon could say anything further. 

***

When Jaime pulled up to the house, Tyrion was sitting on the front steps. He had a book open in his lap, but the scowl on his face showed that his attention was elsewhere. 

“How was your day?” Jaime reached his hand down to rustle Tyrion’s hair, but his younger brother abruptly pulled away.

“You forgot to get me at school,” snapped Tyrion. “I had to go home with Cersei…”

Tyrion had not gotten his license yet, so more often than not Jaime would give him a lift home. It was no mystery to the family that Cersei and Tyrion did not get along. She had never quite forgiven her little brother for causing their mother a difficult labor, and taking her away from the rest of the family. Tyrion was like an open sore on Cersei’s body that she could never quite close up and she could never look away from. 

Jaime was surprised that she didn’t simply leave Tyrion at the school. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He had been too preoccupied with talking to Jon and thinking of the entire endeavor that he had neglected to remember that he needed to grab Tyrion. As Jaime opened his mouth to say that he’d owe Tyrion big time, their father appeared in the front doorway. He was holding his hand out, palm up, expectantly. 

“Hand over your keys, Jaime. We’re going to try something new, starting today,” his father said. “You’ll start behaving in school if I start taking the correct disciplinary actions. No car and no allowance until I decide to revoke these new rules.” 

“ _What_?” The initial shock scrunched Jaime’s forehead and clenched his fists. He didn’t really even like the car, it was obnoxious and the opposite of what he had wanted, but it was the principle of his father taking it away. He knew that the car would remain idle in the driveway, but still remain in sight for everyone else to look at. Just because Jaime couldn’t drive it didn’t mean that it immediately lost its value. 

“You heard me, boy. Hand the keys over. Now.”

Jaime tossed the keys into his father’s chest, none too gently. He shouldered past him into the house. “Now I’m really going to need that fucking money,” he grumbled to himself, stomping loudly up the staircase.

Once the anger had faded away, Jaime realized that the newfound set of rules didn’t entirely work against him. He liked his motorcycle better than his car, and now had an excuse to use it exclusively. Perhaps it would even make him seem more appealing, more dangerous. 

Jaime could not stifle the laugh that emerged due to the concern of being found appealing to Brienne Tarth. 

No allowance, no car, and now playing charming bachelor to Brienne the Beauty. He just had to laugh.

***

“Dad?” Brienne called, hand still on the front doorknob to the house. “Dad?” She found herself in the kitchen, and also found a Post-It note pressed to the refrigerator door.

“ _Gonna be at work late. There’s some leftovers in the fridge, just heat them up for yourself. Don’t wait up. Call me before you go to sleep. Love you! – Dad_ ”  


Brienne opened up the refrigerator and saw a neatly wrapped plate with another note that had her name scrawled on it. She couldn’t help but smile at her father’s antics. He would have labeled each piece of food if he had the opportunity, worrying that she would not be able to figure it out for herself. 

Ever since Brienne’s mother had passed away, Selwyn Tarth had his own way of being overprotective of his only child and only daughter, so Brienne could find sympathy for Dany’s father when she’d complain about him. 

The thing Dany had not been complaining about lately was the mysterious appearances of Jaime Lannister. She had a certain glint to her eyes when she saw Jaime leave the English classroom behind Brienne. “What’s that all about?” she had said, grabbing Brienne by the forearm. 

Brienne truly did not even understand herself. Jaime lurked around the “cooler” kids at school and had a legendary-worthy reputation. His sudden, and strange, interest in becoming her friend made Brienne’s skin crawl. It was all so uncomfortable. She never trusted any boys since they had always mocked her or lied to her.  


That was probably what Jaime was doing. He was bored with whatever other nonsense in his life and decided to zero in on Brienne. She had to admit, despite her strength and size, she could be an easy target. The sensitivity she possessed was always difficult to hide all-together, though she tried her best. 

She found herself angrily stabbing at her leftovers as she thought of Jaime. She could have stabbed every piece of broccoli with an ugly word to describe him, and that was satisfaction enough. 

Brienne assured herself that he would soon grow tired of her, most did after the initial joy of the mock chase wore off. Jaime had better things to do and better people to bother, and for more than half of the school, he wouldn’t have had to ask twice. 

***

“You have to get her to go with you to Drogo’s party on Friday.” Jon nibbled at his lower-lip, his cell-phone pressed against his cheek. 

He heard an audible huff on the other side of the phone. “I’ve been _trying_ ,” Jaime grumbled. “She’s being terribly difficult. I did manage to find out that she is going, though, so that’s one less battle to fucking fight.” 

“I’ll try and talk to Dany, maybe get her to slip in a good word for you?” Jon felt like he was grasping at straws. He hadn’t thought that getting with Dany would be such a task, and he hadn’t thought that trying to date her would multiply into two tasks simultaneously. 

“Is this all really worth it?” Jaime said what Jon had been contemplating. “I know you like her, kid, but…shit, there are other fish in the sea.”

“I think it is,” Jon found himself whispering before he could stifle the thought down. “I’ll help you, I promise.” 

***

The next day at school, Jon purposely stumbled into Dany earlier than their planned lesson time. She appeared pleasantly startled as he royally made a fool of himself, bumping into her shoulder. 

“You okay?” she laughed, reaching her hand out to steady him. 

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” He wanted to cover his face and have the floor swallow him whole. He always felt like a complete idiot in front of her, he shouldn’t have seemed so frantic and he shouldn’t have actual _ran / _into her. “You’re going to Drogo’s party on Friday, right?”__

__“Yeah, I managed to convince my dad to let me go,” replied Dany, beginning to walk down the hallway. “Why? Are you going to go?”_ _

__“Yeah, I might,” he answered offhandedly, practically waving her off. “You’re going with Brienne?”_ _

__Dany laughed. “That’s why my dad is letting me go. I convinced her to go with me.”_ _

__“Brienne, she…she’s an interesting person, it seems. I haven’t really gotten to know her all that well.” Jon could have cringed at how awkward of a segue that was. He wanted to discuss Brienne without mentioning Jaime. It all sounded so terrible if spoken aloud, and if he thought on it too much he wanted to back out of the situation completely. But then Dany smiled so sincerely that Jon’s focus was back on track._ _

__“She really is the sweetest person I know,” said Dany. “We’ve been friends since we were little.”_ _

__“What does she like in a guy?” No filter. Ever._ _

__Dany’s expression was a pretty mixture of amusement and confusion. “You want to take her out?”_ _

__“Uh, no. Not exactly. You see, I have a friend of mine who would maybe be interested—”_ _

__“Oh, you do?” There was a certain tone to Dany’s voice that Jon could not quite place. She glanced over his shoulder and raised her eyebrows. He forced himself to not turn to see what had grabbed her attention. “Smokers. She hates that,” she said suddenly. “Brienne is a really caring, thoughtful person…so no funny business. No lying, no bad behavior…” Her gaze slid back to Jon. “I’m sure you can figure the rest out.” She patted his shoulder and walked down the hallway with a smirk._ _

__“What?” Jon breathed out in frustration, speaking to no one but himself._ _

__***_ _

__The small mirror in Brienne’s room was pristine with the lack of use. Dany had suggested that they get ready together for Drogo’s party, and had quickly managed to smudge and get powder all over the mirror._ _

__Brienne watched Dany as she went through her usual make-up routine. It was all so effortless and feminine, with her mouth open slightly ajar and her hand steady. Brienne tugged a V-Neck t-shirt roughly over her short blonde strands. She never really cared much about her appearance, only wearing make-up if she had a view spots or marks on her face._ _

__“That blue looks good on you,” Dany said softly, catching Brienne’s eye in the mirror. “I _know_ you have a dress that color, but I won’t make you wear it.” _ _

__“How kind of you,” scoffed Brienne with a good-natured frown._ _

__Dany swiveled around on the vanity chair. “I can do your make-up…only if you want me to, though,” she added hastily as an afterthought._ _

__Once they had hit puberty and gone in separate directions, Dany always tried her hardest to understand Brienne. She would never press or taunt her about wanting to do “boy” things or make her feel bad about being uncomfortable wearing high-heeled shoes. There was a mutual understanding, and Brienne truly appreciated that aspect of their friendship._ _

__“Um.” Brienne twirled her fingers between each other, getting them tangled. “Sure.”_ _

__Dany popped up and patted the cushioned seat she had just been sitting on. “I know you don’t like a lot, don’t worry,” she said with a smile._ _

__Brienne let Dany push her fringe pieces out of the way. She let her dust some blush on her cheeks and flick liquid-liner across her top lashes. She trusted Dany to not go overboard and make the look something she would be entirely too anxious to wear._ _

__“All done!” Dany exclaimed after she had managed to put mascara neatly on Brienne’s eyelashes. “Just put some chapstick on and you’ll be good to go.”_ _

__Brienne still felt slightly odd having a light touch of make-up on her face, but didn’t mind the finished product. She touched her fingertips lightly to her cheeks as she stared at herself in the small mirror._ _

__“You can take it off if you don’t like it,” was Dany’s immediate response to Brienne’s silence._ _

__“No, no, it’s…it’s fine,” whispered Brienne, fiddling with the hair framing her face. She had to push down the feeling of stupidity for even attempting to wear make-up. It was way out of her comfort zone and she only let Dany fiddle around on rare occasions._ _

__Just then, as Brienne was still examining her face, the doorbell rang._ _

__“Who could that be?” Dany inquired with a raised brow._ _

__“Brienne,” Selwyn called from the bottom of the stairs, “it’s for you.”_ _

__Brienne and Dany grabbed their things together with shared curious glances and went downstairs._ _

__“Hey there!” Standing in the doorway, clad in the atypical jeans and a leather-jacket combination, was Jaime Lannister._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to keep the age difference kind of accurate…more TV Show-accurate since Jaime and Cersei were 4 when Tyrion was born. Jaime will be 18, on the older end of the senior year, and Tyrion will be 14, not quite fifteen, on the younger end of the sophomore year. Since it’s AU I figure I have some leverage, but I don’t want to be too too off? I know I’m off already by making them all around the same age, which is clearly incorrect. 
> 
> Also, I changed Tyrion's name back to normal. I had it as "Ty" but wasn't really liking that, so I'm just keeping most of their names as they normally are. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


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